


darling, it's true (only with you)

by sopaloma



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, i needed some fluff after that episode, inspired by a tumblr post, the fluffiest fluff you've ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopaloma/pseuds/sopaloma
Summary: heavenly musings on the rich girl and the football player.





	darling, it's true (only with you)

**Author's Note:**

> title from Babeheaven, "Heaven"
> 
> back again with another fic that focuses on a different couple and once again switches up the format. (i have some bughead stuff in the works, i promise)
> 
> this is almost 4k words of me being sappy, varchie-loving trash, but i needed to write something sweet after the heaviness of the last episode. (in case you haven't guessed, this is super cheesy)
> 
> this whole fic is inspired by this beautiful [heavenly words](https://wingedhoney.tumblr.com/post/155391436690/heavenly-words) post on tumblr - please refer to it for definitions of the words used - and is a look at the kind of future i want v and archie to have. it also follows my personal head-canon that archie will become a teacher and veronica will become a lawyer.
> 
> i would also suggest listening to the title song. i know i say this all the time but this one really does set the mood - it's so pretty and dreamy. anywho, enjoy! & hopefully the finale won't break us on wednesday...

 

_pulchritudinous._

He has never seen this girl before, of that he is certain. He’d remember that face – the arch of her dark brows, the curve of her jaw, the quirk of her crimson lips. It is a face he wants to write songs about, has him thinking of words he has never used before: lovely, captivating, exquisite.

Girls like her didn’t belong in a place like this.

She approaches the booth, her dark cloak swaying around her as she strides in her dangerously-high heels. Betty looks similarly awestruck, big eyes even wider as she takes her in.

Her voice is smooth, sweet, and she is well-spoken in a way sixteen year-old's in Riverdale aren't. She comes from money – he knows that much.

“Veronica Lodge,” she introduces herself, extending her hand.

Archie takes it, liking how delicate her hand feels in his. He gives her his most charming smile.

“Archie Andrews.”

 

 

 

 

_scintilla._

In the darkness of the closet there is nothing but instinct and feeling, his hands finding her waist as her fingers slide into his hair. She kisses him slowly, thoroughly, and it is wonderful but not quite enough. He wants her closer, wants her pressed against him until they are twined around each other, until he can no longer tell which breaths are his and which are hers.

It is in the closet that he first feels it – the spark. An elusive feeling, one people can spend their whole life chasing in their quest to find _The One_. And here he is, sixteen years old and experiencing it in Cheryl Blossom’s closet. Not that he understands the gravity of the moment, of what this girl will one day mean to him.

Who knew a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven would be so life-changing?

* * *

She looks up into his eyes, surprisingly bright in the low light of the closet, and swallows. Coming to this town was supposed to be a change for her, her chance at moving away from the stereotype and becoming better. But how could she do that when he was here, stealing her breath away and making her long for more?

Too much temptation had been her undoing in the city, but she has never wanted any drug, any drink, any person, the way she wants Archie Andrews.

 

 

 

 

_dulcet._

“I wanna be _that_ for you.”

“A soulmate?” She smiles, hands sliding across his shoulders. “A broad shoulder I can cry on every now and then.”

He smiles, too, but his expression grows serious as he whispers, “Yeah.” Because he did, he really did, and he needed her to know.

“I’d love that, Archie.”

 _So would I_ , he wants to tell her, but then she is kissing him, and it truly feels like she could be that important. He can see it so clearly, the way she would slot herself into his life, forging a space for herself and ensuring that he never wanted her to leave.

It would be easy to fall for a girl like Veronica – strong, confident, beautiful, sweet. He knew she wouldn’t agree with that description, often saw herself as distant and cold, but he has seen her edges thaw, softened by the love and friendship she has found in Riverdale.

Before he leaves the dressing room she kisses him again, once for good luck. She reaches down as she pulls away, sweeps her hand across his forearm and over his cast, touch so gentle, and there it is. The _sweetness_.

 

 

 

 

_catharsis._

“Yell at me and try to push me away, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Those are the words that break him, have him sobbing in her arms as she clutches him against her chest. And it feels so good to be held, to have someone take his weight and allow him to sink into their embrace.

He was so sure that he could handle all of this, that he could keep it altogether until his mother arrived, but now he knows that he needs this closeness. In her arms, he feels a kind of comfort he is desperate for, the tension seeping out of him.

Tears soak his skin and her clothes, but it is okay. They feel cleansing, purifying.

 

 

 

 

_cafune._

The fire warms their bare skin, bathes them in an orange glow, and Veronica is so content to just lie here with him. She slides her hand across his back, feeling the strong muscle beneath, and then up into his hair, combing through the strands.

He makes a pleased noise, relaxing even further, and Veronica smiles.

They have hours, she tells him. Hours of being here, like this, just the two of them, and that thought makes her so happy, warming her from the inside. She wants to do this every night, wants to always feel his mouth against hers and the caress of his hands against her body.

She loves him, she knows this, even if she is too afraid to say it aloud.

Archie has always been braver.

“I love you, Ronnie.”

She tenses up and then he does the same, rising quickly as an awkward silence falls over them. They try to fill it, making excuses about her parents returning and getting dressed, and it seems that Archie was expecting his confession as much as she was.

Their goodbye is strained, his lips barely brushing her cheek before he is out the door, and she can feel it already – the new fractures in their relationship. She sighs and throws herself back onto her bed, disappointment washing over. She would have been so happy to spend her evening just lying with him, running her fingers through his hair. But those words – those three fucking words – have ruined their peace and disrupted their happiness.

Because she did love him back – _of course_ she did – but actually saying the words, expressing that kind of vulnerability, just felt so unnatural to her.

 

_aspectabund._

He watches her drive away, still reeling from the finality of their conversation. She has broken up with him. After months of being in her orbit, of falling so deeply for her, he doesn’t know how to process what has just happened.

He wasn’t lying when he said it was okay if she couldn’t say it back. If she couldn’t say those three words he would deal with it, as long as she stayed with him. Hearing those words wasn't nearly as important as having her by hisside.

But there had been a part of him that had been so sure that she loved him. He would swear that he had seen it in her eyes, the rich, dark brown so full of affection. And he had felt it in her kiss too. You didn’t kiss someone the way Veronica kissed him if you didn’t love them.

But now she is gone, and he is lost, questioning everything he had thought he knew.

 

 

 

 

_nepenthe._

She had told him she was going to do it tonight and he had offered her a place to stay without a moment’s hesitation. His father would understand, he had assured her. And she knew Fred would, because he was a good man, the kind who took their son’s girlfriend in when she no longer had a home.

Her parents allow her to pack a bag and wait silently in the living room for her to leave. She doesn’t say goodbye as she goes, doesn’t even spare them a glance.

* * *

Archie opens the door almost immediately after her knock, as if he has been waiting for her, listening out for her arrival.

“Ronnie,” he breathes, pulling her into his arms and against his chest, his palm cupping the back of her head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answers, voice small and weak. It is only a half-lie – she is upset but there is also hope, the warmth of freedom so close she can feel it.

He pulls away to take her face between his hands, his warm, brown eyes flickering between her own before he leans down to kiss her. She melts against him, her hands clutching as the fabric of his t-shirt, drawing him closer.

His kiss is a balm, soothing her pain and helping her to forget her heartache.

 

 

 

 

_charmolypi._

Although there is misery, there is also contentment.

She is almost officially emancipated, her life now funded by the trust fund her grandmother provides. She is grateful that she still has the support of her extended family. While she was in the midst of it all - still living in the Pembrooke and caught up in the horror that her parents were creating inside their home - she had forgotten that they weren’t the only family she had.

Now she is away from them and being admitted into a new family. The Andrews men welcome her with open arms and in their house she experiences a life she had always heard about, but never believed truly existed. There are quite nights in spent watching movies and eating pizza, after-school walks with Vegas in tow, and gentle teasing from a father-figure who means no harm, is only filled with affection.

She thinks she will always miss her old life – it was all she had ever known for sixteen years – but the new one she is living is so special to her. It is _hers_ , something she has chosen for herself, and she thanks God every day that she found the strength to leave.

She thanks God for Archie, too. If it wasn’t for his love and support, his family, she wouldn’t be here. Archie is with her, always.

 

 

 

 

_numinous._

The night of their graduation – when she and Archie steal away from Reggie’s party to sit on his porch swing, red solo cups in hand and cheap beer coursing through their system – Veronica feels compelled to confess.

“I’m scared.”

Archie frowns, “Of what?”

“The future.” She turns to him and sees nothing but concern on his face. “It’s all so uncertain. I mean, college is… huge, and I’m not sure I even know what I want to do with my life. How can I be expected to go out into the world when I don’t even know what I’m doing?”

He shrugs. “Well, none of us do. But I’m not scared because I know we’ll figure it out together.” He slides his hands into hers, interlocking their fingers. He smiles. “You and me, right?”

She tightens her grip. “Right.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, finger tapping beneath her chin until she turns to him again. “You’ve done so much, overcome so much in the past couple of years. Whatever you decide to do, you’re going to be amazing.”

His words melt her, her heart clenching in her chest as she looks at him, so earnest and honest and _sweet_.

“Do you really believe that?” she asks softly, vulnerability on the surface, the way she only ever allows it to be when she is with him.

He smiles, eyes liquid gold in the light of the setting sun.

“I really do.”

 

 

 

 

_susurrus._

During their sophomore year of college, they rent their first apartment in Murray Hill. Veronica never expected to live below 59th street but upon Archie’s insistence that he contribute towards rent, they had found something more affordable.

Veronica calls the one-bedroom _cosy_ , a polite word that really means it is small. Archie worries that she is disappointed, considers moving back into dorms so she can move into an apartment of her own, in her preferred part of the city.

“Nonsense,” she says, wrapping her arms around his waist. “No matter which neighbourhood we live in, I’m going to love this place because it’s _ours_.”

Archie can’t argue with that.

* * *

The move in on a hot day in July, the city’s heat oppressive as they carry items out of the moving truck and into their new building. Veronica asks Betty to help, who drags a reluctant Jughead along, and together they fill their new home with furniture and flat-packs.

In the evening, after they have shared three pizzas and said goodbye to their friends, Veronica and Archie retreat to their new bedroom. Their mattress lies on the floor, in the center of the room, a sheet, pillows and duvet thrown over it, while the frame of their bed lies unassembled beside it.

They open all of the windows, and remove their clothes, before tumbling onto the bed and into each other’s arms.

“This is nice,” Veronica murmurs, palm sweeping across his ribs as she lies across his chest.

Archie presses his face into her hair and smiles. “This is perfect.”

That night they make love in their now home, slow and quiet despite being the only two in the room. Panting breaths and whispered declarations fill the stillness, and it is everything Veronica had imagined their first night to be; just the two of them, together, delighting in the quiet intimacy.

 

 

 

 

_meraki._

Their eyes meet again, neither of them able to suppress their giddy smiles. She takes a sip from her champagne flute, eyes still locked with his over the rim.

“We should do this every night,” Archie declares, reclining further against the tub, his arms outstretched on either side.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Veronica sighs, placing her glass on the table beside the tub.

He watches her from across the bathtub, cataloging the things he likes most – the flush to her cheeks from the heat of the water, the tendrils of hair falling from her bun and curling around her temples, the brightness of her eyes, both happy and a little tipsy.

He loves this woman, loves every part of her. As a man who has always loved easily, has always been able to see the good in people, that doesn’t seem like a particularly spectacular thing. But his love for Veronica is so different from anything else he has ever experienced.

Before her, he didn’t know how love could consume you, could make you irrational and crazy, but also understanding and forgiving. Loving her has taught him so much and he will always be grateful for the privilege. Because that’s what it was – it was a privilege to love her.

He catches her ankle beneath the water, thumb smoothing across the delicate skin.

“Come here,” he murmurs.

* * *

She follows his request, moving through the water and turning to recline against him, her back flush against his chest. His hands immediately wrap around her stomach, his touch even warmer than the water.

“I love you,” he murmurs against her neck and then presses a kiss there, the touch of his lips feather soft.

She angles her head, searching for his lips and a real kiss, and is rewarded with the sweetness of his lips against hers. She could kiss him forever, for the rest of her life.

When she was younger and had daydreamed about her future, about the life she one day wanted to have, she never imagined a love like this. He loves her so completely, the good and the bad, and she loves him right back.

She settles back against his chest and holds out her hand, once again admiring the diamond ring that now sat on her fourth finger.

“It’s so beautiful,” she smiles, watching it glint beneath the lights.

He grins, cheesy in all the best ways, and tightens his embrace.

“Beautiful ring for my beautiful girl.”

 

 

 

 

_ethereal._

Veronica had always thought her wedding would be an extravagant affair – a church ceremony, an extensive guest list, and the most elaborate dress she could find.

Her actual wedding couldn’t be more different. She and Archie head to the courthouse on a Saturday afternoon, his parents, her abuelita, and their best friends in tow to witness. Veronica wears a vintage Versace dress with a coat she bought at Forever 21, and buys a bouquet from the Chelsea flower market an hour before the ceremony. Archie wears one of the two suits he owns and pins one of her flowers to his jacket.

She has no bridesmaids, no long veil, no organ music leading her in. Instead, there is just her and Archie, exchanging rings and smiles in front of the people they love most.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiator announces, and Archie dips her into a kiss, smiling against her mouth as she giggles.

After, they have an early dinner at their favorite restaurant in Midtown, and return to their apartment tipsy and giddy on champagne and their love.

They spend their evening in their bed, drinking more champagne and making love, and she has never felt so content. The simplicity of the day would have made a young Veronica cry but the older Veronica – the one who loves Archie Andrews, her all-American boy – is elated, so happy that they could focus on the one thing that truly matters – committing themselves to one another.

* * *

Every day he is blown away by her beauty, stunned that someone like her would choose him, but on this day she is something else entirely. He has never seen anyone or anything more beautiful than Veronica as she agrees to spend the rest of her life with him.

That night, they undress each other, and he shows his reverence through his lips, his touch, his words.

“I love you,” he mumurs against her throat, before slipping the strap of her dress from her shoulder. His lips sweep across the skin, his palm flat against her stomach, holding her against him.

“I love you,” she replies and he can hear the smile in her voice, the smile that hasn’t left her face all day.

His turns her in his arms until he can see her exquisite face, can marvel at her beauty – his gorgeous wife – and then takes her lips with his.

 

 

_euton._

He has called her many things – his girl, his fiancé, his best friend – but nothing has ever felt as right as calling her his _wife_. It carries such a weight behind it, a single word conveying his devotion. And he loves introducing her as his wife, declaring to people proudly that yes, this woman married him, this woman wants to be with him forever.

At night he lies against her as she reads, head pillowed on her chest. She is wearing her glasses, face lit up by the glow of her beside lamp, and he will never stop being awed by her beauty.

She notices his staring, smiles down at him. “Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles against her. “Just tired.”

She reaches up to tangle her fingers in his hair, combing through the strands and massaging his scalp, and his eyes flutter closed beneath her ministrations. It is moments like this that he loves being married, loves having someone by his side who will do sweet things like comb her fingers through his hair when he is tired.

Being married is just really, really _nice_. And he is so happy he gets to be married to someone as wonderful as her.

* * *

The word falls from her lips so easily, a proud smile on her face as it does.

“This is my wonderful _husband_ , Archie.”

She loves introducing him to her co-workers, associates, acquaintances she has met only once before. The work events she attends are usually boring affairs – a room full of lawyers with little outside of work to talk about – but being there with him makes it so much easier.

In this world she has chosen to work in, full of cutthroat people with questionable morals, he keeps her grounded. He is so good, looking for the best in people and expecting it from himself, and when she is working a particularly tough case, he reminds her that there are people who genuinely see the positives in the world.

She knows he is probably not what her co-workers are expecting – a middle-school teacher whose glass is so clearly half-full – but she likes that she can surprise them. She belongs in this world, is good at her job, but she also belongs with him. He is the balance she needs in her life.

So she introduces him proudly, showing him off, and watches fondly as his ears turn slightly red, still embarrassed but touched by her praise, even after all these years.

 

_sweven._

Most days in Archie’s life are normal, inconsequential, a routine of going through the motions. But on days like this he swears he is living in a fantasy, every aspect almost too good to be true.

Central Park is beautiful in the spring, and as summer approaches and the temperature rises, he finds himself there with his wife most weekends. They lie out across a picnic blanket, Veronica with a book and he with his headphones, their French bulldog, George, dozing at their feet. And there is a quiet perfection to those afternoons that makes him so grateful for this life that he is living.

Left arm tucked beneath his head, Veronica lies against his right, head nestled on his bicep. He turns to look down at her, surprised to see that she is asleep, book sitting open on her stomach and her face completely relaxed in slumber. He leans down to press a kiss to hairline and smiles.

* * *

After leaving at sixteen, Veronica wasn’t sure that she could ever live in New York again. Moving back for college could have been only temporary and the place itself held a lot of dark memories for her – her parent’s distance during her childhood, the wild and destructive behavior of her teenage years.

Archie has changed that. He has made her love the city again and helped her build a life there, one that she treasures. Now, she associates the city with anniversary dinners at new restaurants, warm afternoons in the park, walking George through the city streets and nights spent listening to live music, and all of those things make her feel so warm. She falls in love with New York again, and falls deeper in love with him. He is always looking for the good in everything he does, and he helps her – ever-the-cynic Veronica Lodge – do it, too.

In so many ways, this life is a dream come true, and when she looks at him she can only see the things they have to come – milestones, new jobs, new homes, children. She wants to experience all of that with him and more.

“Why are you staring at me?”

She smiles at him across their breakfast bar, cradles her chin in her hand.

“I’m not _staring_. I’m admiring you, Archiekins.”

“Well, stop,” he says, cheeks turning pink as he laughs. “You’re embarrassing me.”

She laughs and reaches over to cup his cheek in her hand, stroking her thumb across his skin. She is happy to see that so much of young Archie, the boy she fell in love with, still exists within the man she married. He is still so loving, and kind-hearted and _good_. And she thinks she is so lucky to have moved to that little, troubled town and found him.

  


End file.
